To Cut a Long Story Short (2000) Read online

  ‘What scoundrel could write such an outrageous letter to a married woman?’ demanded Robert as he adjusted his glasses.

  Anna turned, horrified to see her husband standing behind her and staring down at the letter, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Anna coolly, as Muriel appeared by her side, tennis racket in hand. Anna folded her letter, passed it over to her oldest friend, winked and said, ‘Fascinating, my dear, but for your sake I do hope Reggie never finds out.’

  CRIME PAYS*

  KENNY MERCHANT - that wasn’t his real name, but then, little was real about Kenny - had selected Harrods on a quiet Monday morning as the venue for the first part of the operation.

  Kenny was dressed in a pinstriped suit, white shirt and Guards tie. Few of the shop’s customers would have realised it was a Guards tie, but he was confident that the assistant he had selected to serve him would recognise the crimson and dark-blue stripes immediately.

  The door was held open for him by a commissionaire who had served in the Coldstream Guards, and who on spotting the tie immediately saluted him. The same commissionaire had not saluted him on any of his several visits during the previous week, but to be fair, Kenny had been dressed then in a shiny, well-worn suit, open-necked shirt and dark glasses. But last week had only been for reconnaissance; today he planned to be arrested.

  Although Harrods has over a hundred thousand customers a week, the quietest period is always between ten and eleven on a Monday morning. Kenny knew every detail about the great store, in the way a football fan knows all the statistics of his favourite team.

  He knew where all the CCTV cameras were placed, and could recognise any of the security guards at thirty paces. He even knew the name of the assistant who would be serving him that morning, although Mr Parker had no idea that he had been selected as a tiny cog in Kenny’s well-oiled machine.

  When Kenny appeared at the jewellery department that morning, Mr Parker was briefing a young assistant on the changes he required to the shelf display.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ he said, turning to face his first customer of the day. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I was looking for a pair of cufflinks,’ Kenny said, in the clipped tones he hoped made him sound like a Guards officer.

  ‘Yes, of course sir,’ said Mr Parker.

  It amused Kenny to see the deferential treatment he received as a result of the Guards tie, which he had been able to purchase in the men’s department the previous day for an outlay of PS23.

  ‘Any particular style?’ asked the sales assistant.

  ‘I’d prefer silver.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ said Mr Parker, who proceeded to place on the counter several boxes of silver cufflinks.

  Kenny already knew the pair he wanted, as he had picked them out the previous Saturday afternoon. ‘What about those?’ he asked, pointing to the top shelf. As the sales assistant turned away, Kenny checked the TV surveillance camera and took a pace to his right, to be sure that they could see him more clearly. While Mr Parker reached up to remove the cufflinks, Kenny slid the chosen pair off the counter and slipped them into his jacket pocket before the assistant turned back round.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Kenny saw a security guard moving swiftly towards him, while at the same time speaking into his walkie-talkie.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the guard, touching his elbow. ‘I wonder if you would be kind enough to accompany me.’

  ‘What’s this all about?’ demanded Kenny, trying to sound annoyed, as a second security guard appeared on his other side.

  ‘Perhaps it might be wise if you were to accompany us, so that we can discuss the matter privately,’ suggested the second guard, holding onto his arm a little more firmly.

  ‘I’ve never been so insulted in my life,’ said Kenny, now speaking at the top of his voice. He took the cufflinks out of his pocket, replaced them on the counter and added, ‘I had every intention of paying for them.’

  The guard picked up the box. To his surprise the irate customer then accompanied him to the interview room without uttering another word.

  On entering the little green-walled room, Kenny was asked to take a seat on the far side of a desk. One guard returned to his duties on the ground floor while the other remained by the door. Kenny knew that on an average day, forty-two people were arrested for shoplifting at Harrods, and over 90 per cent of them were prosecuted.

  A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, thin man with a weary look on his face entered the room. He took a seat on the other side of the desk and glanced across at Kenny before pulling open a drawer and removing a green form.

  ‘Name?’ he said.

  ‘Kenny Merchant,’ Kenny replied without hesitation.

  ‘Address?’

  ‘42 St Luke’s Road, Putney.’

  ‘Occupation?’

  ‘Unemployed.’

  Kenny spent several more minutes accurately answering the tall man’s enquiries. When the inquisitor reached his final question, he spent a moment studying the silver cufflinks before filling in the bottom line. Value: PS90. Kenny knew all too well the significance of that particular sum.

  The form was then swivelled round for Kenny to sign, which to the inquisitor’s surprise he did with a flourish.

  The guard then accompanied Kenny to an adjoining room, where he was kept waiting for almost an hour. The guard was surprised that Kenny didn’t ask what would happen next. All the others did. But then, Kenny knew exactly what was going to happen next, despite the fact that he had never been charged with shoplifting before.

  About an hour later the police arrived and he was driven, along with five others, to Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court. There followed another long wait before he came up in front of the magistrate. The charge was read out to him and he pleaded guilty. As the value of the cufflinks was under PS100, Kenny knew he would receive a fine rather than a custodial sentence, and he waited patiently for the magistrate to ask the same question he had when Kenny had sat at the back of the court and listened to several cases the previous week.

  ‘Is there anything else you would like me to take into consideration before I pass sentence?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Kenny. ‘I stole a watch from Selfridges last week. It’s been on my conscience ever since, and I would like to return it.’ He beamed up at the magistrate.

  The magistrate nodded and, looking down at the defendant’s address on the form in front of him, ordered that a constable should accompany Mr Merchant to his home and retrieve the stolen merchandise. For a moment the magistrate almost looked as if he was going to praise the convicted criminal for his act of good citizenship, but like Mr Parker, the guard and the inquisitor, he didn’t realise he was simply another cog in a bigger wheel.

  Kenny was driven to his home in Putney by a young constable, who told him that he’d only been on the job for a few weeks. Then you’re in for a bit of a shock, thought Kenny as he unlocked the front door of his home and invited the officer in.

  ‘Oh my God,’ said the young man the moment he stepped into the sitting room. He turned, ran back out of the flat and immediately called his station sergeant on the car radio. Within minutes, two patrol cars were parked outside Kenny’s home in St Luke’s Road. Chief Inspector Travis marched through the open door to find Kenny sitting in the hall, holding up the stolen watch.

  ‘To hell with the watch,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘What about this lot?’ he said, his arms sweeping around the sitting room.

  ‘It’s all mine,’ said Kenny. ‘The only thing I admit to stealing, and am now returning, is one watch. Timex Masterpiece, value PS44, taken from Selfridges.’

  ‘What’s your game, laddie?’ asked Travis.

  ‘I have no idea what you mean,’ said Kenny innocently.

  ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘This place is full of expensive jewellery, paintings, objets d’art and antique furniture’ - around PS3